Sailor Moon does not belong to me.
I wish it was so but keep on dreaming. Sailor Moon belongs to
Naoki Takeuchi/Kodansha, TOEI Animation. I want to say thank
you to all those people who encourages me to write to continue writing.
Especially to Jade and Fyrechild.
I have been recovering from a car crash and a serious illness that
followed my accident.
Remember to visit my page at
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Pagoda/9613/
I usually add my fanfiction there before I submit it.
I'm looking for some pre-readers. If you are interested in
becoming a pre-reader for me please email me. The character Annie
belongs to me and only me. The rest belongs to
Naoki Takeuchi/Kodansha, TOEI Animation.
It is a romance if you are looking for action this is not the
right place for you. This is an alternative reality. If you have
any questions about this storyline, please email me and I'll try
to explain it the best I can.
Visions of Sugarplums is a copyright of Serena Chiba@1998.
Now on with the story.
** means thinking
Vision of Sugarplums
by Serena Chiba
Chapter One
He was the kind of man who made up hismind in two seconds, max.
Masculine assurance was as much a part of him as his wide sholders and
dark, close-cropped hair. Ordinarily, Tsukino Usagi thought, he would
know what he wanted the instant he spotted it, would point, pay, and
be out of the store before the average shopper even started looking.
So why was he having trouble now?
Usagi paused in her task of closing out the back cash register
for theday, tucking the shining blond bell of her hair behind her ear
as she watched the customer. Her usual response would be to go over
and offer her help. She had the feeling, however, that this guy might
prefer doing things on his own.
He seemed to want to Christmas tree, since he was standing in
front of the row of decorated display of trees which was a feature of
the Silver Bells Christmas Store. That was the comparatively normal,
even if he had left it a little late. Yet it was hard to believe he
was interested in the Sugarplum Fairy Tree that he was scowling at
with such fierce deliberation.
Usagi hadn't noticed him when he came in. It must have been
during the mad frenzy an hour ago when the store was crowded by
customers seized with holiday spirit as the last minutes of shopping
time ticked down. Still, he had been hard to miss as people began
to clear out.
It was not just his impressive height, the iridescent sheen
in the neat waves of his hair, or eyes so intensely blue their color
was apparent clear across the store. No, it was the indefinable
sense of presense he wore like a comfortable old shirt. It seemed
to fill the place to its far corners, impressing itself upon her
against her will. She was acutely aware of his frustration and
impatience, aware enough that she was having trouble totaling the
cash and credit card slips in the register drawer.
It was too bad that she had already sent her store manager
home to enjoy what was left of Christmas Eve with her family.
Minako would have bustled over, all cheer and motherly, admiring
smiles as she steered this final customer toward something more
suitable, such as the Scots Tartan Tree, the Denim Special, or
maybe the Camouflage example on its rustic stand. Minako could
get away with things like that because she like macho hunks and
made no bones about it, in spite of being married to one for over
ten years. More than that, she was big-hearted, and genuinely
filled with the spirit of the season. Usagi had none of these
things going for her. She had no particular appreciation for
hunks, and wanted nothing so much as to have Christmas Eve over
at last.
Regardless, she had to admit that it was pretty brave
of this rugged, construction worker type in his scruffy leather
bomber jacket, jeans and work boots to venture into the Silver
Bells. The usual customer for Usagi's year-round Christmas store
was a female bent on making her home festive; holiday decorating
seemed to be exclusively a woman thing, at least in Tokyo.
He might, of course been sent by his wife or girlfriend along
with instructions either too vague or fancy for his taste.
That would account for his uncharacteristic indecision. The only
thing wrong with that idea was that he didn't seem to be the kind
of man to run any woman's errand.
Usagi glanced at her wristwatch. Fifteen minutes past
closing time. Minako has put out the Closed sign and locked the
entrance leading into the mall behind her as she left. Usagi had
used her key to let the last few customers out of the store after
they paid for their purchases. These hints had gone unnoticed by
the man in front of the Christmas trees.
She probably shouldn't be checking the receipts while
he was still around, Usagi thought. For all she knew, he could
have stayed behind to rob the place. It was just that she was
so anxious to get home. She needed to rest and relax, needed
desperately to have the season behind for another year, even if
the store itself was a constant and aching reminder of her loss.
The main thing standing between her and her goal was the
macho hunk. He had to go, one way or another.
Pressing her lips together in a determined line, Usagi
felt for her shoes with her toes, and slipped them on her aching
feet. She stuffed the cash register receipts into a bank bag and
locked them away, then reached to flip off the switch of the CD player
that had beeen cycling endlessly through a collection of Victorian
Christmas music box tunes. In the abrupt and blessed silence,
she slid off her stool and moved toward the front of the store.
It was as Usagi was passing the giant Christmas tree that
dominated the center of the store during the holidays that she
heard the noise. It was a soft cooing, a low and almost musical
sound, yet it stopped her dead in her tracks.
The tree was a Silver Bells trademark, an extravagant
showpiece to draw attention to the store. Hundreds of people
traipsed through every December to see what had been devised
to astonish them. Usagi's mother, who had first opened the
store fifteen years ago, had always wracked her brain for new
ideas and combed the Tokyo gift market every July for products.
Usagi had done the smae when she took over some seven years
before, though no one was more amazed by the results each year
than she was herself.
Her heart simply hadn't been in it this year, or for
the past four years for that matter. She had opted for the
cherubs which seemed to be everywhere, then added the basic
recurring motif of silver bells. These ornaments were richly
carved Medieval-style pieces thickly gilded in gold or encrusted
in silver. Added to them were swaths of gold lame or silver
gauze that wove their way through dark green fir branches flocked
with iridescent fairy dust. The somberly magnificent tree
soared to the fluorescent lights in the ciling, while underneath
it lay a myriad of boxes in gold and silver wrapping paper topped
by bows of iridescent gauze. Customers had been mildly appreciated,
but not especially impressed. Usagi didn't blame them.
The noise she heard, like a sweet hum touched with the
humorous certainty of attracting attention, seemed to come from
beneath the tree. The source of it was somewhere among the packages
piled under the low-hanging tree branches.
Usagi didn't want to look. An instinct she had thought
almost forgotten warned her of what she was going to find. Yet
she was forced to investigate by thatsame sure instinct.
A baby.
A living cherub in pink and white perfection. With
dark purple curls, violet eyes, chubby yet delicate features.
It had an angelic smile showing two small pearls for bottom
teeth. And it was looking straight up at her.
Stapped into a carrier, the baby had been pushed well
backed under the tree, wedged between a box covered in silver
brocade and one in gold foil. Bright-eyed and imperious, the
small being kicked blanket-wrapped feet and waved dainty hands,
cooing again in a request to be picked up.
Usagi's breath caught into her throat. Her heart
shifted, aching, in her chest. Her eyes burned. The urge to
back away, turn and run, surged into her brain.
It was not possible. Against her will, she knelt in
slow, inevitable adoration. Her fingers shook as she reached out
to drag the carrier forward. As if compelled, she released the
straps that held the baby in place, slipped her fingers carefully
around the small, warm body, and lift the lovely, living doll in
her hands.
The baby was a girl, judging by her rosebud mouth, fragile
build, and also the pink and aqua jacket she wore with a pair of
pink knit rompers. She appeared to be well cared for, with the
sweet, unforgettable scent of a clean and healthy baby.
As she cleared the side of the carrier, a small rag doll
slid out of her blanket, falling to the floor with the brief
musical tinkling of a lullaby. Carrier, clothing, and toy were
all of excellent quality. The precious mite didn't seem at all
the knod of child that someone would abandon on Christmas Eve.
Usagi forced her trembling lips into a smile. Her voice
tender and not quite steady, she said, "Well, hello. Hello
there, my little love."
The smile on the round, cherubic features faded, becoming
solemn. The baby reached out with pink and white starfish fingers.
Clutching a handful of Usagi's shining hair, she pulled her face
forward with determined effort and planted a moist, open-mouthed
kiss on the point of her chin.
A choked, watery laugh caught in Usagi's throat. Then she
folded the small, warm being carefully into her arms and rocked her
with a gentle motion while she bent her head and squeezed her eyes
shut.
Across the store, Chiba Mamoru stood tranzfixed, his gaze
fastened on the two under the Christmas tree. There was such naked
love and longing in the woman's face that he felt almost ashamed as
if he had stumbled on something sacred, something he had no business
seeing. The lady and the baby were a matched pair, both soft, gentle,
and beautiful. They belonged together. There was no doubt about it.
And he was excluded. It was a sensation he didn't care for at
all. He hated it, in fact.
Funny. Or maybe not so funny.
What would it take to change things? Mamoru considered that
question with the single-minded concentration he brought to most
problems. At the same time, he began walking toward the pair under
the tree in the middle of the store. By the time he reached them,
he had the first glimmering of an idea.
"Not the best place to stash a kid," he said with a trace
of amused interest in his voice. "But then, I guess maybe she's
used to it?"
The lady glanced up, her stunningly, blue gaze so startled
it was plain she had forgotten his existence, assuming she had
ever noticed it in the first place. He felt the smile that
tilted his mouth widen.
The lady gasped as she watched his lips, a small, winded
sound that was amazing soothing to his ego. Looking away, she said,
"She doesn't-she isn't-I mean I don't have the faintest idea how
this baby got here."
"She's not yours?" He arhced a skeptical brow even as
he checked out the fact that the lady wore no wedding band.
Fantastic.
"Of course not!" she said indignantly as a flush of
color spread across her cheekbones.
His appraisal was judicious before he replied, "She has
dark hair too, but I don't suppose that makes her yours!"
"No way!" He retreated a quick step, holding up a
hand.
"I thought not." She glanced pointedly from his rough
appearance to the baby's dainty perfection. An instant later,
her look of vindication was replaced by a frown. "You didn't
see who left her, did you?"
He shook his head. "Didn't see a thing."
"But who would just go off and desert her? Who could
possibly do such a thing?"
"People do it all the time." Mamoru watched her face,
mesmerized by the emotions registering in quick succession.
"Oh, I know parents leave kids in the video arcade or
toy stores for other people to baby-sit," she answered with
scorn, "but this is ridiculous."
"Guess you look like a trustworthy soul," he offered
with a small shrug. "Or a motherly one."
Her gaze was vulnerable and edged with pain before she
looked away. She moistened her lips, a movement that made him
draw a deep, silent breath. "Well-well, I can't help that.
I'll have to call the police."
"Yeah? And what if the mother comes back, screaming
hysterically, two minutes after they get here? What if she
thought the daddy had the kid, and the daddy thought she had
her? It can happen."
"Or maybe I should cotact the child protection hot
line at Community Services," the lady continued as if he
hadn't spoken. "Yes, that might be best. They can take
care of everything."
"Some Christmas spirit you have," he drawled, his
disappointment giving his voice a distinct edge.
Her glance was wide and vulnerable. "I fail to
see what that has to do with it."
"No? You want to let this pretty little thing spend
the night in a lonely crib? You want her to wake up in the
morning to strange faces and no presents, no Santa Claus in
sight?"
Exasperation crossed her lovely features, though she
cuddled the baby in a touchingly protective gesture. Her tone
acid, she said, "Just what do you suggest then? I can't stay
here all night on the off chance somebody will suddenly remember
they misplaced their child."
"No problem," Mamoru said with more nonchalance than he
felt. "Put a note on the door and take the kid home with you."
"Are you out of your mind!"
At the sharp tone, the baby began to cry. Mamoru reached
out instinctively to chuck her under the chin. "Hey, take it
easy, Annie, honey. It's going to be all right, sugarplum."
"What did you call her?" The lady's blue gaze was sharp.
"Sugarplum?"
"No, the other name."
"Honey?" It was a play for time.
"You know what I mean," she said in distict warning.
"Annie," he said, feeling foolish and frowning to cover it.
"You know. As in Little Orphan, et cetera? We have to call her
something."
The look in her shining blue eyes was scathing, though she
made no direct answer. She began to rock the baby, murmuring,
trying to comfort her. Tilting her head at an angle to lok into
the small, screwed-up face resting on her shoulder, she appeared
for all the world as if she would burst into tears herself.
The lady holding the baby was dressed in a black and cream
dress that made her look competent and sophisticated and a bit s
ever. It wasn't at all what he would have chosen. He'd love to
see her dressed in rich blue, or lavender, or pink, something,
anything, that had a little color to it.
Of course, nothing at all, except maybe a bright, rich,
clear smile for him alone, would be even better.
He had lost it. He was gone.
Before he could speak again she said in thick tones, "I don't
know what to do, really. I don't have diapers or formula or baby food.
Besides, I'm not sure I can take care of a baby."
"Tell you what," Mamoru said, thrusting his hands into the
back pockets of his jeans as he eyed the wailing kid. "Since we're
sort of in this together, so to speak, I could maybe give you a hand."
She looked at him, her gaze startled, as if she was
really seeing him for the first time. Meeting her eyes without
evasion, Mamoru felt himself sinking into the deep power of them,
and he didn't give a damn if he went clean under. She moistened
her lips, and he could almost taste them, almost feel their tender
texture, their heat and moisture. And he felt the drawing of a
desire so virulent and hungry it was like nothing he had ever known.
It was not simple lust, though that was part of it. It was a deep,
sweet yearning for forever, or maybe a glimpse of it.
She swallowed, a convulsive movement in the smooth line of
her throat, as she looked away. "It's Christmas Eve. You must
have some other place to go, something better to do."
He shook his head. It was the most he could manage.
"Family? Relatives?"
"Out of town." It was the exact truth.
"Possibly a woman friend expecting you somewhere, then?"
"She ran out on me two days ago, so I'm fresh out of
female company. Guess Annie will have to do." He didn't include
the woman who held her, but that was understood. He hoped.
A tiny frown pleated the skin between her eyes. "Don't
you think it would be a little strange?"
It would be a lot strange, but he didn't intend to let
that stop him. Mamoru lifted a forbidding brow. "Why?"
"You don't know me, I don't know you. neither of us has
any connection whatever with this child. Why should we get
involved?"
"Why shouldn't we?" Because he couldn't stand to hear
the baby cry a minute longer, Mamoru reached out for her, easily
overcoming the brief resistance of the woman who held her. He tossed
little Annie up once, twice, laughing into her eyes. She gasped,
chortled, and reached to grasp a fistful of his hair.
Magically, the crying stopped.
Mamoru flashed the lady a look of triumph; he just couldn't
help it. Turning back to the baby, he said, "Well, no Annie, my
sweet thing, my name's Chiba Mamoru, but you can call me Uncle
Mamoru. And this lady is..." he paused, sending the lady an
expectant look.
She gave him the name.
He grinned in secret triumph. "This lady is Tsukino Usagi.
You can call her 'Rabbit' or Aunt Usa."
"Usagi, not Usa, and especially not 'Rabbit'. But why?
We arent' her aunt and uncle." She folded her arms over her chest.
"Annie doesn't know that," he said reasonably. "Besides,
it's a good old southern tradition in America. Makes people seem
familiar so kids are more comfortable."
"If you say so," Usagi answered dubiously.
"Right. So what do you say, Annie? Shall we all go shopping?"
The baby gurgled and clutched his shirt as she tried to
pull herself up to stand on his forearm. He turned to Usagi.
"See? She likes the idea."
Abruptly, she shook her head so her hair swung against
her shoulders. "I can't."
Mamoru's smile faded while his thoughts moved with rapid
precision. Voice pensive, he said, "The way I see it, you can't
get out of it. What if the mother really has abandon her, but has
second thoughts and comes back-only you've called the police?
I'll tell you what happens. The mother gets arrested for neglect
and thrown in jail. Annie is left to the mercy of the courts, which
means an institution, or maybe foster parents if she's lucky.
No family for Annie anymore."
"That would be....terrible," she said with a frown.
"Right," he agreed. "So what's wrong with giving things
a little time? Just a day or two? Or do you have something better
to do?"
She bit her lip. "No. Not-really."
"Well, then?"
"You don't understand-" she began.
"No, I don't," he said, the words hard. "Do you think Annie
does? Or will she understands when she grows up?"
The woman running the Silver Bells met his gaze, her own
intent, searching. She shut her eyes so tight her long lashes
meshed; then she opened them again and gave a slow nod. "All right,
you win. But you get to hold her until I close."
"Great," he said. "That's great."
At least, Mamoru thought it might be. With just a little luck.
Author's Note
So how do you like this?? Is it good, bad, or I could have done better??
Please send your comments, flames, and critisism to me at
serena_chiba@hotmail.com
Ja ne.
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